Can I never win?
by IvyRoseConlon
Summary: Racetrack's life. WARNING: Slash, and rape. Read with caution.


A young Racetrack, no older than 6 or 7, was kneeling on the ground, hands folded on the pew in front of him. He was doing everything write, doing everything that he was told.

Except, he wasn't praying. No, he was not having a kind soulful conversation with God. He was cursing him. God wasn't kind, He didn't protect the small and the weak and he defiantly did NOT smite the wicked.

God was mean. That's all young Racetrack knew. He would lie in bed after his nightly lesson at the church. Abandoned at a young age, he was left on the doorstep of the church and the church was all he knew. As he lay, he would wonder where the church got their stories. The stories filled him with hope, not that God would come and deliver him, no hope that he would be able to walk away on his own.

He shivered as the door to his small room creaked open. He turned on his side and felt the big hands of the pastor on his stomach as they slowly trailed down his body………..

Racetrack shuddered, trying to shake away the memory from his youth. He was no longer 7, he was now 16. No longer the church boy; now he was a newsie.

His was lying on his bunk thinking when the memories crept from the dark depths of his head. He struggled to push them back to where they belonged. Unable to sleep he sat up on his bed, pushed off the covers and got up.

He slowly walked to the window, opened it and stepped onto the fire escape. He felt the cold breeze on his skin and let it envelop him. He looked around him and was comforted to see the buildings instead of the walls of the church.

He leaned against the railing, shivering and not from the cold. He was struggling with his mind, trying to push back to rid himself of the memories.

Sighing he pulled out the cigar he had grabbed from the table before he went out. He put it between his lips and struck the match and lit it. He took a deep breath, and with the exhaling of the smoke, he blew out the memories.

After a long day of selling papes, Racetrack came to the lodge and collapsed on his bunk. Around 10 minuets later the rest of the boys came bursting in laughing and joking. Racetrack groaned and pulled the blanket up over his face.

The neck thing he knew was that he was being pounced on and the blanket torn away from his face. Racetrack groaned again and had on a nasty glare for whoever was disturbing him, it was Jack.

"Jack you crazy bum. Get off me!" Racetrack yelled and attempted to throw Jack off of him.

"Hey calm down, Race. You should get up, Brooklyns comin over for a game." Jack got up off Race and started to turn away but paused. "You didn't forget now did ya?"

"O' course I didn't!" Racetrack growled. "Can't a man rest before a game?"

Jack shrugged and walked away to the table where they were to play cards. Race sat up and stretched then began to rummage around in his things, looking for his cards. When he found them, he too them and walked to the table where he began shuffling absentmindedly, listening to Jack discuss his day and waiting for Brooklyn to arrive.

Almost a half hour later, the boys heard footsteps coming up the stairs. They all turned their heads as they saw Spot and his gang appear.

Jack smiled and went up to Spot and they shared a spit-shake. Spot's men scattered around and shared conversations with the Manhattan newsies. Spot and one of his men, Cart, sat at the table where Jack, Racetrack, Mush, Skittery and Bumlets were sitting.

Racetrack lit up a cigar and started dealing the cards. Out of the corner of his mouth he said, "Ready to lose, Spot?" Spot just laughed but knew he would probably end up loosing more than winning.

After a few hands, the boys started talking more. At the end of one game, Jack and Mush started telling a story about this how they soaked this guy who was harassing Mush.

Racetrack followed the story shuffling his cards absentmindedly. He started to feel his mind wander and he was brought back to the church…..

_Racetrack curled into a ball and shook. His whole body ached and he was sure he had the beginnings of bruises on his knees. He had been rough tonight but, thankfully, he didn't go all the way this time. Silent tears trickled down his face and he sucked on his bleeding lip. _

_He lay that way for hours and pulled his knees closer to his chest when he heard his door open for the second time that night. Racetrack closed his eyes tighter, hoping he was just imagining things. He was jerked out of that fantasy when he felt a hand travel down the length of his back._

"_Miss me?" The pastor whispered into his ear before gently kissing him on the cheek. The pastor moved his hand down and gripped Racetrack's ankles and gently tugged. "No!" Racetrack squeaked and pulled his knees even closer to his chest._

"_What did you just say to me?!" The pastor yelled, enraged. He gripped Racetrack's chin and jerked so that he was facing the other. "Look at me," he whispered, sounding deadly. Racetrack refused and felt the sting of the pastor's hand across his face. "Look at me!" he all but yelled. _

_Racetrack slowly opened his eyes and saw the fire in the pastor's eye and couldn't help but whimpering. He just smirked at Racetrack and Racetrack knew he was going to get hell. In one swift, hard movement he ripped Racetrack's knees away from his chest and was straddling him. He put one massive hand and pressed down hard on the small boy's chest so he couldn't squirm. With his free hand he yanked down Racetrack's pants……………….._

"Hello? Anyone in there? Racetrack!" Mush was saying as he waved his hand in front of Racetracks face. Race shook his head and said, "Yeah I'm here. Just was thinkin'." Mush looked at him, his eyes full of concern. Racetrack gave the 'mother hen' a small smile and got out of his chair. "I'm gunna take a smoke break."

All the boys nodded at him and started talking amongst each other. Race pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and placed it between his lips as he walked upstairs, to the roof. He opened the door and stepped out onto the roof, immediately greeted by a cold blast of wind. He walked to the edge and leaned up against it as he lit his cigarette. He looked out across the roof and gazed at the buildings he'd come to know so well.

He was halfway through his second cigarette when he heard footsteps behind him. Guessing it was Jack coming to check up on him, he took another long drag from his cigarette and blew it out as he turned to face….Spot?

"Hey Race. Came to check up on ya…." Spot said to him.

"Tired of losing?" Race asked knowing that Jack could talk anyone into folding.

Spot laughed and nodded before pulling out a cigarette of his own. As he lit it he leaned against the railing next to Racetrack.

Quietly, Spot asked. "So why'd ya leave the game Race?"

Racetrack took a sideways glance at Spot, who was regarding him with a blank face; Race took a drag and quickly exhaled the smoke. He sighed and said "I wanted to think."

Spot studied Race curiously and saw a quick flash of pain in the others eyes. Race turned and caught Spot looking at him and the boys stood there looking into each others eyes. Slowly, the two leaned into each other until their lips were pressed softly together.

They stood their kissing for only moments before Racetrack pulled away, blushing. Spot looked at him, his normal smirk on his face. He brushed his hand softly across Racetrack's face. Race stood there looking into Spots bluegrey eyes. "You should come visit me in Brooklyn in a few days." Spot propositioned.

Race contemplated the idea and nodded saying, "Yes."

Racetrack stood there just outside the Brooklyn lodging house, he was staring at the door, building up enough courage to go inside. He took a deep breath and opened the door. One of Spot's men came up to him and told him that Spot was in his room. Being the King of Brooklyn, Spot had his own room.

Race knocked on the door and Spot promptly opened it. "Hey Spot."

"Hey Race." Spot greeted ushering Race in. Once inside, Spot closed the door and made sure it was locked. Racetrack, suddenly feeling extremely calm, collapsed on the bed and Spot lay next to him.

They talked about anything and everything for a while before Race pulled Spot into a passionate kiss. It wasn't long before Spot was on top of him trailing his fingers up and down his bare chest and settling on Racetrack's groin. He slowly stroked him and feeling Race harden underneath his hand.

Race looked into Spot and Spot saw hesitation and pain in his eyes. Race pulled Spot into another hard kiss and Spot moved his hand into Race's pants slowly stroking him……………………..

Spot lay on the bed running his hand up and down Racetrack's back. Race had his head on Spot's chest and was sound asleep. Spot looked at his lover and smiled. That night had been filled with passionate lovemaking and Spot had to admit, Race was good.

Spot closed his eyes and had started to drift off when Race twitched. He opened his eyes to look at Race. Race had started mumbling and saying 'no' over and over in his sleep, his face had clenched and looked like he was in pain.

Realizing that his lover was having a bad dream, Spot stroked his hair and softly whispering to him. Race had started to sweat and tremble, afraid to wake him Spot just held him closer. Race sat up straight, gasping and panting. He looked around the room before his eyes landed on Spot.

Upon seeing the boy, Race fell on top of him and curled into a ball, the positioned he used to sleep in. Wondering what hell the boy must have seen, Spot held him trying to comfort and calm him.

They would have these nightly visits twice a week for a few months. Spot seemed to be calmer and Racetrack seemed a whole hell of a lot happier. Not once did the pair ever care what the other boys thought.

One day Race had arrived at the Brooklyn lodge and bounded upstairs to see Spot. Forgetting to knock on the door, he flung it open and immediately regretted not knocking. Spot was on his knees in front of one his boys; Racetrack didn't stay long enough to find out which one it was.

He ran down the stairs and out the door, only half aware that Spot was following him. He kept running ignoring Spot and kept running until he was sure that Spot had given up. He looked around and fell to his knees, crying.

He cursed God again, like he had when he was younger. Could he never win? Racetrack kneeled there yelling at God for what seemed like forever.

When he was done he got up and walked back to Manhattan.

So used to and good at hiding his emotions, no one at the lodge, not even the empathetic Mush, knew that his heart had been shattered. He carried on like he normally would, smokin' his cigars and playin his card games.

"Hey Race! How was your day?" Kid Blink asked as he passed. Race was standing on the steps of the lodge smokin' a cigar.

"Not bad. I managed to sell all me papes."

"Well, it's about to get better. We've got a game against Brooklyn tonight!" Blink said.

Race froze and almost dropped his cigar. He was going to have to see Spot again…

Quickly regaining composer, he took a deep drag and says, "Should be fun, Brooklyn better be prepared to lose." He replied with only a hint of hatred in his voice.

"Haha! I win again!" Racetrack proclaimed. He had managed to keep a cool composer throughout the entire night and took pleasure when he saw that Spot was slightly irked by that fact.

Deciding that he had taken enough of the boys' money for that moment, Racetrack got up and walked outside for a smoke break. When he was done, he turned to see Spot leaning in the doorway of the lodge. In no mood to talk to him, Racetrack turned and started walking away.

Spot was following him and Racetrack didn't care. After they had walked a few blocks away from the lodge Spot called out, "Race…"

Racetrack stopped and turned around. "What?" he snarled glaring at Spot. Spot said softly, "I'm sorry."

"No, no you're not." Was Racetrack's response just as his fist connected with Spot's face. Spot took a step back and moved his hand to his face and then looked at his hand, his fingertips came back with blood on them.

Spot knew he deserved the punch, but he couldn't NOT hit him back. So, Spot drew back his fist and swung, hitting Racetrack square on the jaw. Racetrack aimed lower after that, getting Spot in the stomach. As he bent over, Racetrack uppercutted him. Spot stumbled backwards, before landing a series of punched to Racetrack's face and core.

Racetrack kneeled down and swept Spot's legs out from under him and he fell onto his back, hard. Before Spot's eyes stopped spinning, Racetrack was straddling him. His fist was drawn back ready to hit him. Spot braced himself for it but it never came.

Instead, Racetrack pressed his lips against Spot's in a bruising kiss. The kiss was full of passion and also full of anger. Racetrack bit Spot's lip causing it to bleed and then Racetrack pulled away. And there they were, staring into each others eyes. Racetracks full of passion and anger. Spot's held regret and longing.

Racetrack sighed and grabbed Spot's hand helping him onto his feet. They stood around awkwardly before Spot looked into Racetrack's eyes and asked, "Together?"

Racetrack looked at Spot before finally saying, "Together." Spot's face lit up and they grabbed each other's hands and started to walk to the nearest alley. Spot pressed race up against the wall and kissed him softly and nipping his lip as he pulled away. Race smiled and then said "uh-uh" and moved away from the wall and pressed Spot against the wall.

Race pressed his body against Spot's and kissed his neck causing Spot to emit a soft moan. Race whispered in his ear, "I'm in control." Then Race held Spot's hands above his head as he kissed his collarbone, up his neck and finally finding his mouth.

As he kissed Spot, his other hand traveled down Spot's body and slowly sliding into his pants. When Spot felt Race's hand on him he gasped causing Race to smile. Race slowly moved his hand along the length of Spot's manhood. Spot bit Race's lip hard causing him to grab Spot and squeeze and that caused Spot to squeak.

Race giggled at the sound his lover mad and Spot glared at the other and opened his mouth to say something but Race wouldn't let him. "Oh hush" he whispered and pushed his lip against Spot's.

As they kissed, Race started to stroke Spot faster and faster, loving the sound Spot made. Then he moved his hand all the way down and started to play with his head, twirling his finger around it and teasing it. Spot thrusted his hips into Race's hands and Race could feel him building to his climax.

Race pulled his hadn out of Spot's pants and pulled Spot's head closer to his and kissed him harder and allowed his tounge to explore Spot's mouth. He pulled away and looked at him and smiled. He then kissed Spot's forehead and said, "See you later!"

"Wait, really?" Spot said. "But…but..your not going to finish??" Race smiled and said, "Not tonight Spot."  
With that, Racetrack walked back to the Manhattan Lodge and Spot was left wanting more.

Things continued like that for the entire month. It was almost as if Race was punishing Spot for cheating….

Racetrack was having too much fun teasing Spot that he didn't notice his partner growing more and more angry. HE thought the furious kisses and lip biting were part of the play. Race didn't know just how wrong he was….

One night, Race met up with Spot and they did there normal thing. Spot attacking Race's mouth as Race teased him. Only, this time, when Race turned to go, Spot decided that he wasn't done yet.

"Race, come back here." Spot demanded. Startled, Race stopped in his tracks and turned to him.

"Excuse me?" He said, a soft fire burning in his eyes.

"You heard me. You're not finished." Spot demanded. He grabbed Racetrack's collar and pulled him to his chest. "Today, you're going to finish what you started." Spot put his hands on Racetrack's shoulders and shoved him to the ground.

Spot pulled himself out and forced Racetracks head upon him. "You know what to do." Spot said. Racetrack just closed his eyes and ignored him. This was too much. Why was this happening again? Race kneeled there ignoring Spot until Spot slapped him.

Spot hit him so hard that his head jerked to the side and Racetrack couldn't see straight. When he looked at Spot he asked, "Are you gunna do as your told?"

It was as if the pastor had come back, reincarnated as this boy that now stood in front of him. Racetrack looked down and shook his head. Enraged , Spot punched Racetrack repeatedly in the face until his nose and mouth was bloody.

Angered that he couldn't get Racetrack to comply, he yanked him up onto his feet. He then slammed him against the wall. As Spot yanked down his pants and forced himself inside, Racetrack was taken back to all those nights at the church. Everytime the pastor touched him, every time he was forced to 'Do as he was told.'  
The tears fell from his face, burning his eyes. He was reduced to the child he once was. Then he rememberd: He wasn't a child anymore.

He swung his elbow, catching Spot right in the gut. Spot gasped and doubled over in pain. Racetrack whipped around and put his hands on Spots throat, his fingers cirling over and covering his entire neck.

Now it was Spot's turn to look up with fear. Race could have squeezed the lif out of him right then and there, but he didn't. He was too angry. He proceded to bang Spot's head against the wall until Spot struggled no more.

He left Spot's body there and walked to the Manhattan lodge. All the wasy there he cursed God. HE may have won this battle but in the process he had lost the last of his soul and he was empty.

He got there and showerd, cleaning himself. HE almost rubbed his skin raw out of sheer spite. He lay in his bed and fell asleep. HE tossed and turned and was plagued by his usual nightmare, only this time the pastors face would twist and become Spot's.

Unable to sleep, Racetrack got up and walked to the roof. He lit up a cigar and smoked it. When he was done he looked up the sky and said "Can I never win?" With that, he fell off the roof and it was all over.

* * *

Ok, I know its dark and its horrible

but I wanna know what you guys think...so please Tell me in a review?

It would be greatly appreciated.


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